


The Hidden Memory Of Tears

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Sam, Community: spnkink_meme, Gang Rape, Headaches & Migraines, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Dean, M/M, Nightmares, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: A fill for the spnkink_meme prompt; Sam/Dean, fragile-Dean, hurt/comfort. Anything where Dean is fragile/has lost weight because of any illness or other issues and Sam comforts him





	

The memories haunt him. They come to Dean in the dead of night, slow but steady, not stopping despite his desperate attempts to wash them away with a bottle of whiskey. The vision of powerful, tattooed arms wrapped around him, holding him too tightly to properly breathe, trapping him tight against another body that was taller and stronger than him, and hot as a furnace, burning him like Hellfire. Hans paw at his bare backside like he is a piece of meat. Hot breath sends cold shivers against Dean’s warm, freckled skin, makes his heart pound like a war drum. 

The sounds come back to him and make his stomach churn, the crud laughter echoes in his mind as he remembers screaming and wailing like a bloody, wounded animal ensnared in a deathtrap. Choked sobs and wordless pleas, and high pitched crying tumble from his chapped lips as he tries to escape the man’s hold while razor sharp fingernails dig into his skin. 

Dean grits his teeth, biting back the cry that was locked in his throat as the memory plays in his mind. The delicious terror licks up his spine, slithering like a snake deep into his gut where it writhes and twists and leaves him sick. His muscles convulse, he gags around the bile seeping in his throat. 

Like a vicious wild dog, the fear sinks razor sharp teeth into his flesh and thrashes, he feels like he is being ripped apart. He keeps one hand knotted in the sheets as if to ground so the nightmares don’t snatch him away into the dark. 

Memories play in his mind for a time where he was touched in all the wrong ways, meaty hands on his battered, frail, thin body, cruelly caressing him as he begged for them to stop. Light, crackling and blazing, too bright to look upon the faces of his attackers, blinds him, although he can almost make out a deadly smile grinding on him. 

Something sour clenches in his stomach, a sweaty wave of nausea boiling in his belly. Dean shakes, his eyes are absolutely glazing with pure terror, a desperate whine rising up against his ribcage, constringing overwhelmingly; he finds it difficult to breath. 

He tries, huffing in rough breathes, face buried in his pillow. Breathe in, breathe out; he tries so hard to keep the dark thoughts away, but they snarl at him with an aggressive, predatory growl. They spill inside of his mind, taking away his comfort and safety. 

The men smile at him in wickedest ways, multiple hands holding him down while brutal hips jerk forward in shorter, erratic bursts, the thick flesh ramming into him so relentlessly, ripping him open. Abused in the dark of night, he was a slave to the group of ruthless men, beaten and starved and used for pleasure, made to bleed like a butchered pig as one by one they forced themselves on him. Like a pack of ravenous wolves, he was torn apart night after night after night, prey to the vicious predators. 

He swears he can feel them, now; alone in the motel room. He shivers and thrashes in bed, thin convulsing body twisting away from the memory of being violated. His stomach coils with sickness from the memory of his abuse, pinned down and taken savagely. The man grinds against him, hard, punishing, and laughing at his suffering and breathing, sweaty-hot against his bruised skin as he wails. 

Dean’s stomach heaves, rippling with each wave of memories that tore through him. 

Given merely scraps to live on during his time in captivity, his strength to fight back slipped away with every pound lost. Thin, vulnerable, he was helpless against his malicious captors. The phantom sensation of pain and hunger and sorrow sends the the hunter sobbing brokenly. Slimy slickness slicks in his belly as the memories ravage his mind. 

In captivity, he had no sense of time; day became night, night faded into day. Every night the same wicked torment was inflicted upon him by the group of ruthless men. He fought back, he did, but being starved, left a weakness in him that allowed the men to so easily overpower him. Blood between his thighs, he cries out, his whole body tensing as he is ripped open once again. 

Dean gasps and shakes, choking on his sobs, muscles spasming and contracting as he is broken apart from the memories. 

Sam finds him sometime later after returning from a food and supply run. He watches Dean, his face in the pillow and sobs ripping from his throat. Sam is sure his heart has broken once again. Sam knows what happened to his brother, even though Dean doesn’t talk about it. Of course he knows; Sam was the one who found Dean walking down the road that night, naked and thin and traumatized, cast out into the night by the men who had decided they were finished playing with this toy. 

Sam’s heart was in the right place, he wanted to help Dean anyway he could, but Dean was too proud to ask for help. He refused to go to the doctor, to talk to anyone. He merely acted as if it had not happened; just kept the nightmares of his time in human hell a dark secret that only Sam knew about. Sam was against the way Dean was handling the situation, but did not push. He was just so relieved to have his brother back, even as broken as he was. 

Setting the food aside, Sam climbs onto the bed, and Dean allows Sam close enough to bring him into a hug and he accepts the kindness. A hug will not take away the pain entirely; will not make Dean forget how he was assaulted in the worst way. But a gentle embrace warms him now, and calms the distress in his heart, even as he makes little broken noises of sorrow. 

Exhaustion takes Dean to sleep, still held in Sam’s arms. 

Some nights Dean is calm; the memories do not come--they remain locked away in the far back of his mine. However, most nights they slither like snakes into his bed. 

Three nights later, the haunting memories have brought a migraine that ravages Dean’s mind. 

The room is dark and cool, and for that Dean is grateful. He can barely breathe past the pain in his mind; He felt shivery, sick to his stomach, like he was going to vomit. He whimpers, his eyes leaking tears as throbbing agony vibrates through his head. 

He is shivering, too, feels that jolt of sharp nail like pinpricks throbbing in his skull, smothered in horrendous pain. Dean swore softly and sank deeper into the bed in an attempt to escape the sorrow. The darkness is a little comfort against the brutal migraine wracking his mind. 

The men, too many of them for Dean to keep count, each abusing him, laughing as a scream broke from his throat, breaking into his body as he lay bound to the bed, gasping, then screaming again and again until his throat was so raw he could not utter one sob. 

The memories are vile, Dean feels his stomach clench. Sam, sweet, comforting Sam, has been a heaven sent to Dean. Not able to heal him completely, but put him together little by little by offering love and compassion. A touch that is nothing sick and twisted like the way the men caressed him. 

His brother leans down and kisses Dean’s cheek, trying to offer him a small dose of comfort. Dean lets out a soft groan, jaw clenching tightly. He closes his eyes and groans, fighting the urge to grind his teeth as a wave of exhaustion and pain washes over him. The blankets are drawn up to his shoulders, fluffy and warm, and the bed is soft and cozy, a small comfort to help ease his ache. 

The memories are tucked away far, far in the back of his mind for now... leaving only the migraine to break his mind. The light sensitivity is not an issue; Sam has drawn the shades and snapped off all the lights leaving the room pitch black. However, the bone-splintering pain vibrates through Deans head, but amongst the terrible ache, the painkillers Sam gave him mixed with his brother gently rubbing his back is a light at the end of the trouble. 

Sam keeps still as he lays beside Dean so as not to shake the bed, he gently cards his fingers through Dean’s hair; Dean's stomach churns due to the nausea, any rumbles from the mattress will certainly cause him to make a beeline for the bathroom, and yeah, the thought of moving at the moment is enough to bring a new wave of pain through Deans body. Dean shivers so hard his head feels like it’s on fire, yet a blissful warmth clouds his mind when fingers brush through his hair, touching him oh so softly. 

“Shh, shh,” Sam coos as he gently rubs circles on his brothers back. As with many people who have no problems giving comfort, Sam knows his brother is like a lone wolf; brave and strong and able to stand on his own without help. Dean is not so good about accepting comfort, but dark times like now he is so very grateful to Sam for offering a loving touch. Even if he doesn’t say so with words, he needs to be close to Sam.

Dean shivers, a low rumble of pain reverberating through his head, and he winces, before a slow rush of bliss passes through him as the soothing strokes Sam rubs across his skin calm the ache. Dean tries to not think about the pain in his mind, instead focusing on the soft and tender touch of his brother’s hand. Each stroke up and down his spine is calming and comforting, something he very much needs now. 

He starts to drowse despite the throbbing ache that feels like his mind is being split open; Sam’s gentle touch has effectively chased away the pain. His eyes grow heavier, his breathing evens out, the tense muscles in his body melting slowly, his body sinks deeper into the mattress as sleep calls to him. He slips off to sleep a little while later, comforted by the gentle touch of his kindhearted little brother. 

Even though he has suffered in the realm of hell all these months, for now, with Sam by his side, Dean can sleep in heavenly peace, if only for a little while. 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/10278.html?thread=3504678#t3504678)


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